


April Showers

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [12]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot being thoughtful, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Learning about her past, Mentions of Highlander characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: Eliot shows up in Chicago unexpectedly to surprise Lyn, but is in for a surprise himself.
Relationships: Eliot Spencer/OFC
Series: Designated Hitter [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/15392
Kudos: 5





	April Showers

**Author's Note:**

> OFC is an immortal with telepathy. At this point, they've known each other roughly 9 months.

Lyn jerked her head up when she heard the deadbolt click open. She only had a few seconds to react before Eliot came down the hallway; she knew it could only be him. 

Grabbing two of the empty whiskey bottles off coffee table, she shoved one between couch cushions but the second only made it under the fleece throw covering her legs before he came around the corner.

The smile on his face disappeared, and she could feel his worry wash over her immediately.

“What’s wrong?” 

She had texted him a couple days ago that she was going to Chicago; he had been wrapped up in a job and hadn’t responded. Figuring he would text her when he was free, she hadn’t counted on him wanting to see her when he was done. 

She watched him take in the picture in front of him. The shades were drawn, and the condo was nearly dark, illuminated only by the light coming in around the edges. There were two whiskey bottles on the table, one still sealed and the other half-empty. 

“Oh, I... it’s...” she fumbled to explain. _How can I say I’m mourning the husband that died more than 70 years ago?_ “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see ya,” he said simply, moving closer. 

His frankness undid her, and a wave of fresh tears fell down her cheeks.

He rushed over, pushing the whiskey bottles back before sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, he asked, “What’s got ya cryin’?”

“It’s stupid,” she said, gesturing vaguely with her hands.

He held one of her hands in his, stroking his thumb across her knuckles reassuringly. She knew he wasn’t going to be dissuaded. 

“April is a really hard month for me,” she told him simply. Seeing he needed more of an explanation, she continued. “I met and married Thomas in April.”

He cocked his head and started to say something, but she stopped him.

“He also died in April.”

His bowed his head, squeezed her hand and said, “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

There was nothing more perfect he could have said in that moment.

“Do this every year?” he asked, gesturing to the whiskey bottles. “Get drunk?”

“Pretty much.” she shrugged. 

“Aw, darlin’, he wouldn’t want you to do this,” he said.

She knew Eliot was right. She knew it every year, but that rational thought never changed the way she dealt with her grief. 

“You need to stop mourning his death and start celebrating his life.”

No one, not even Methos had ever said anything so profound, yet so simple.

“How?” she asked, uncertain how to proceed.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand. 

“What? What are we doing?”

“You need to shower and get dressed.”

Worrying about the empty whiskey bottles being revealed with him so close, Lyn thought quickly.

“Make some coffee,” she told him, gesturing to the kitchen.

Eliot nodded, and she could tell he was happy to have something to do. 

As he turned away, Lyn shoved the second bottle between the cushions and stood up, strategically dropping the throw over the couch. Then under the pretext of getting her balance, she moved the cushions to better conceal the bottles.

***

Standing under the hot water, she felt her shoulders start to relax. Eliot’s arrival had been unexpected, but she realized she was grateful he was there, grateful he had been understanding and comforting in her enduring grief. 

_What had he said?_ she tried to recall. _Stop mourning his death and start celebrating his life._ She no idea how to do that, but perhaps just sharing the essence of who Thomas was with Eliot, would be enough.

Her thoughts focused on Thomas, she felt a moment of panic race through her, and she realized she’d made a critical mistake. In her urgency to hide the empty liquor bottles, she had left the tintype of her wedding day to Thomas on the coffee table. _Crap! Did he see it? How can I explain it?_

Shutting off the water, Lyn opened the glass door and was surprised to see Eliot standing there holding open her terry cloth bathrobe. 

“Oh!” she said. “Thank you.”

Nodding, he slid the robe up her arms and settled it on her shoulders before she tied it. Handing her a towel for her hair, Eliot watched as she bent, wound it around her hair and stood up. 

He reached for her hand and led her from the steamy bathroom before taking a seat on the end of the bed. She followed suit and then took the cup of coffee he offered her.

“Mmm, it’s good.”

“When’s the last time ya ate?” he asked studying her face.

Keeping her eyes on the steaming mug, she said, “What’s today?”

Eliot sighed heavily and shook his head. 

She could feel his admonishments ring through her head, but he stayed quiet. 

Reaching for her hand, he gripped it tightly until she raised her eyes to meet his.

“Tell me about him.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Let me show you a picture.”

She handed Eliot the cup before going to retrieve the tintype from the coffee table, deciding on an explanation as she went.

“We didn’t take pictures at our wedding, we were married at the courthouse, but we did these later,” she said, holding out the tintype.

Her explanation wasn’t a lie exactly; she had chosen her words and phrasing carefully. They had been married at the courthouse, and the tintype had been taken later that same day.

Eliot examined the tintype. It was typical of the style, grainy, and black and white. Thomas, dark haired and clean shaven, sat in an armchair wearing a dark suit with a tie, and Lyn, with darker hair in an updo, stood beside him, hand on his shoulder, wearing a light colored long lacy dress, holding a hanky in her other hand.

“Nice,” he said simply, handing the tintype back to her. 

She carried it over to her dresser and propped it up against a perfume bottle. 

“He was so nervous that day. So was I.”

“How old were y’all?”

“He was twenty,” she told him. 

She hadn’t been prepared to give details, so she took a moment to walk back over to the bed, sit, take her cup and take a sip before she finished answering. 

“I was eighteen.”

“So young,” Eliot commented. 

“We were.”

Holding her hand, Eliot asked, “How did you meet?”

“We were introduced by a friend, by Adam actually,” she said, referring to the man she had introduced Eliot to in Tuscany nearly six months ago.

Upon their meeting, Adam (Methos) had been his usual snarky self, and hadn’t made the best first impression on Eliot. Lyn felt Eliot’s renewed dislike for her teacher and oldest friend.

“Thomas was a handyman, and Adam knew I was trying to restore an old house. It seemed like a perfect fit to him,” I explained. “I’m not sure if he was matchmaking or if us falling in love was just a bonus.”

This seemed to temper Eliot’s feelings for her teacher for the moment.

“What was Thomas like?” he asked softly.

“Oh, he was... kind and thoughtful. Caring. He liked helping people.”

Memories flowed through her like water. Thomas hand carving canes for men coming home from the war. Helping widows repair their homes. Teaching children how to read. Showing her the right way to repair a handrail. 

“Aw, Lyn, don’t you see,” Eliot said softly, waiting until she raised her eyes to his. “All the best parts of him are in you. He’s with ya every day.”

It was the second most profound thing he had said to her that day. 

***

He left her alone with her thoughts while she got ready, and he made some phone calls. While talking about Thomas, Eliot had come up with an idea how to celebrate the man; now he just had to put that plan into motion.

Coming back into the bedroom to check on her, Eliot called to her.

“Lyn, ya ready? I made some calls to...”

When she didn’t answer, he checked the bathroom, but found her standing in the closet looking at her clothes. She had blow dried her hair and braided it loosely, but that was as far as she’d gotten.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she said, then turned to him. “Calls to who?”

“Oh, um, you’ll see,” he said off handedly. “How ‘bout jeans? These?” He randomly pulled a pair off a stack on a shelf. 

“Where are we going?”

Looking at all the dresses and business clothes, Eliot asked, “Don’t you have any flannel?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Thermals?”

“No.”

“Woman,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “You live in Chicago and Boston, how can you not have winter clothes?”

“Usually it's not that cold in April,” she said simply.

Stepping out of the closet, he went to her dresser and opened the top drawer. It was full of underwear—white, colors, patterned, cotton, lace, silk. He randomly picked a pair and shut the drawer with a groan, handing them to her.

In the next couple of drawers, he found a bra and socks, handing them to her in turn, before turning back to the closet.

Lyn chuckled softly and reopened the drawers, replacing the items he had picked, and choosing more appropriate undergarments. 

“Don’t you have any functional boots?” Eliot called from the closet.

“Functional?”

“Winter boots,” he explained, hands on his hips.

“Like this?” she asked, pulling down a pair of low-heeled brown ankle booties.

He sighed heavily and she bit her lip to stop the laugh that was threatening to escape. 

“They’ll work for now,” he said. “Ain’t attached to these, are ya?”

She got the mental image of him setting them on fire, but wisely just shook her head.

“Here,” Eliot said, unbuttoning the blue plaid flannel shirt he was wearing, slipping it off and holding it out to her.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, reaching for a shirt he had left there last fall, a navy-blue Gucci dress shirt, rolling up the French cuffs a couple of times. 

“Get dressed or we’re gonna be late!” he said, leaving the room.

“Late for what?” she called to his retreating back.

But if he heard her, he didn’t respond.

***

Fifteen minutes later, they stepped into the elevator.

Resting his hand in the small of her back, he covertly studied her.

Wearing the jeans and boots he’d picked out, she had added a sleeveless white mock turtleneck under his flannel, and because it was so large, she had added a brown belt. On their way out, she had also grabbed a lined windbreaker from the hall closet. It was the windy city after all.

At 10 in the morning on a Wednesday, the lobby of The Adeline was quiet, and as they strode off the elevator, Eliot spotted Ben, the day manager.

“Ben,” Eliot called out.

“Yes, Mr. Spencer, Miss O’Neil, what can I help you with?”

“Is there a diner or coffee shop nearby?” Eliot asked.

“Absolutely,” Ben said. He stepped towards the front door and gestured. “About two blocks west, there’s a place called Over Easy. They serve breakfast all day.”

“Great,” Eliot said, and started to turn but stopped. “Oh, and a place to buy winter boots?” Eliot gestured to Lyn’s feet.

The men exchanged a knowing look, then Ben said, “You’ll find several shoe stores in the next block.” He signaled for the doorman to open the outer door, then said to them, “Let me get you two a car.”

“Nah, we’ll walk,” Eliot said with grin.

***

True to Ben’s word, in the next block they found several shoe stores. Once Eliot was happy with their selection, he bought Lyn a pair of fleece lined winter boots, and at her insistence, a lined windbreaker for himself.

A block later, they found the diner and ate a quick brunch before setting off for their destination. Throughout the meal, Lyn continued to pry information from Eliot, but he would only say one thing.

“You’ll see.”

***

They had caught a cab after brunch, and when they pulled up outside what looked like a restaurant, Lyn was confused. The sign on the building, _The Stewpot_ , gave no further information, and Lyn turned to Eliot. 

“It’s a homeless shelter and soup kitchen,” he explained.

She turned and took a closer look at the people milling around front doors, then looked back at him.

“We’re just in time to help serve lunch.”

After a quick introduction to the director, Alan he set them to work.

Donning plastic aprons and gloves, they took their positions behind the serving table, spooning up vegetable soup and handing out fresh baked bread.

Lyn watched as people poured in. Some looked like they had fallen on hard times, others perhaps were long term homeless. There were people of all ages and races, solitary people, and families. 

She watched the ‘regulars’ chat with the volunteers they were familiar with, but they were noticeably wary of her and Eliot. When lunch service was over, the volunteers handed out sacks; looking inside she saw bottled water, a protein bar and various other snacks. 

“To get them through to dinner,” one of the volunteers, Carla told her.

Noticing that Eliot had struck up a conversation with two little boys, their mom looking on, Lyn remembered their time at Miss Ida’s and the little boy at the county fair carnival. It seemed Eliot had a special place in his heart for children.

Once the hall was empty of everyone except volunteers, then clean up began. Lyn wiped tables while Eliot swept. She watched as he made small talk with other volunteers, and she chatted with a young girl, Tina who was heavily tattooed. 

“...had to come here a couple times myself, so I know what it’s like.”

Lyn had missed the first part of what Tina said. “You were homeless?”

“Nah, I had a place,” she said almost defensively. “Just not enough money for food all the time.”

Lyn nodded sympathetically. “But you’re doing better now?”

“Alan got me a job at a used bookstore. They work with my school schedule.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“Saint Xavier. I’m gonna be a nurse,” Tina said shyly.

“I think you’ll be an amazing nurse,” Lyn said confidently.

“Thank you. It’s really hard, but it’s the only thing I ever wanted to do,” Tina confided.

Something about Tina made Lyn react. 

“Let me give you my number.”

Tina pulled out her phone, and older model with a cracked screen, and handed it to Lyn, who quickly entered her number.

“I don’t have any experience in nursing, but I know some people who do. If you need help, or even a friendly ear, you can call me.”

“Thanks,” Tina said. 

Lyn could feel Tina’s doubt but hoped she would call.

“Mr. Spencer?” Alan called from the front of the hall.

“Yo!” Eliot called, handing off his broom to another man before jogging to the front. He gestured for Lyn to join him, so she said her goodbyes to Tina and went.

“There’s a truck here with a delivery for you,” Alan said.

“It’s actually for you,” Eliot explained. “We’re making a donation in the memory of Thomas O’Neil.”

Lyn couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and numbly followed Eliot and Alan outside. Two men were unloading box after box from a large truck.

When Alan went back inside to get help moving the boxes inside, Lyn finally found her voice. 

“What is all this?”

“Blankets, pillows, towels, clothes, shoes, toiletries,” Eliot said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Another truck pulled in behind the first, the sign on the side read _Grocery Deliveries_.

“Oh, and food,” Eliot said with a satisfied smile.

“How... How did you do this?”

“I know some people.” He winked at her. 

Still bewildered, Lyn asked, “Did you pay for this?”

“Yeah.”

“No, let me.”

“Nah, it’s already taken care of,” he said simply.

“Split it with me then,” she offered.

“How about,” he began, “you pay for one tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lyn said. “We’re doing this again?”

“We can do this every day for the rest of the month if you want.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Lyn launched herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. 

“Thank you, thank you so much,” she whispered against his neck. 

***

Several hours later, they were back at The Adeline. Before walking to the front door, Eliot pulled her aside. 

“I want you to go take a long soak,” he told her.

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna get stuff for dinner, cause I know you don’t have anythin’ in that fridge of yours.”

She laughed and said, “Okay. Don’t be long.”

Cupping her face, he kissed her softly, lingering every so slightly, before leading her to the front door. He waited and watched as she went in and was greeted by Ben, who then escorted her to the elevator.

As the doors closed, Lyn saw him still standing outside, thumbs hooked in his jean pockets, watching her with a look of pure happiness.

***

After getting back into the condo, Lyn removed the empty whiskey bottles from between the couch cushions and dropped them down the trash chute. 

She straightened up the living room and bedroom, making sure she didn’t leave any other traces of Thomas, other than their wedding tintype on her dresser, before finally stripping and sinking into a hot bath. 

Eliot tapped the bathroom door with his knuckle. She hadn’t closed it, but it was pushed almost all the way to retain the steam. 

“Come in,” she called.

He pushed the door open and leaned against the door frame.

“Need anything?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say a glass of whiskey and some company, but she felt a distinct distance between them, so she just shook her head.

“Gonna get dinner started,” he told her. “Take your time.”

He closed the door to almost exactly the way he found it and she wondered at his odd behavior. 

After today, Lyn felt infinitely closer to Eliot. He hadn’t been the slightest bit put off that after traveling to see her, they had spent the day celebrating the life of her deceased husband. He had shown her how compassionate and thoughtful he was. Not to mention the generosity of his donation.

She sat up suddenly, sloshing the water in the tub. He was being respectful of Thomas by not looking at her as a sexual creature. 

He had averted his eyes when she had gotten out of the shower this morning. He had left the room when she got dressed. He had barely even touched her all day, except for a few chaste kisses here and there. He had a ready-made excuse for not joining her in the tub if she had asked. 

Settling back in the tub, she thought about how to change the way he was thinking.

***

After a simple dinner, they settled on the chaise lounge with mugs of hot chocolate Eliot made ‘just like my mama did it’. They lounged side by side, a throw blanket across their legs. 

“Thank you for today,” she told him, blowing into the steaming mug. “For everything.”

“Glad I could be there for ya,” he said softly.

“No, it was more than that. You reminded me of who Thomas was. And in doing that, you showed me more about yourself.”

She continued, “Thomas was a good man. He was brave. And smart. He had a good heart. And he always wanted to help people.

“You’re like that, too.”

She felt him start to deny it, but she laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

“And you also reminded me that even though he’s gone, I’m still alive.”

She leaned in and their lips met in a tender kiss.

When they parted, she said, “Make me feel alive.”

“I can do that,” he said with a smile, and he did.

**Author's Note:**

> The story where he is introduced to Methos and Duncan hasn't been written yet.


End file.
